Things Fall Apart
by thejennamonster
Summary: AU. "What if...Arnold and Helga hadn't known eachother their whole lives? What if they met in collge?"


A/n: Hello. So this is something new and different. I'm gonna say now, that I'm not the most informed about Hey Arnold's universe. I used to watch the show all the time when I was a kid (wow, I feel old, now), but lack of time/cable has made it so that I lost track of things a long time ago.

However, I've been reading the fics in this section and for some reason I became inspired to try my hand in this section (which is odd for me, cos I normally focus on Invader Zim –insert shameless plug, here-).

So this is an AU fic. Sort of a "What if..." "What if Arnold and Helga didn't know each other their whole lives? What if they met in college?" That sort of thing.

I am going to attempt to keep this as PG-13 as possible. However, I do have a bad habit of using much harsher language than PG-13 would normally allow. I have yet to run into a problem in the IZ section for this, but if anyone here has a problem, I will gladly up the rating.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own HA. I own some pocket lint, though—want some?

Three words. One little phrase. How could three little words send his whole world into disarray? His heart was in his stomach, his hands clammy; a lump roughly the size and shape of a grapefruit had risen in his throat, which he couldn't swallow around. Three words, three words, three…

"_The first time anyone says 'I love you' should always been in a different language. When you say something and it's not in your native tongue, it has more meaning."_

And she was standing there, in front of him, smiling that sheepish, sad, knowing smile. That smile he knew so well; the one that made him want to grab her and whisk her off her feet and onto his bed and do things that even the Harlequin Romance novels that his grandmother used to read couldn't find words for.

"_Do you think that I have a soul?"_

"_Yes, and it's amazing."_

She reached out and tucked an errant strand of cornflower hair behind his ear. It was all he could do not to hold his breath and close his eyes at the warmth emanating from her palm. He could faintly smell the perfume that she had dabbed on her wrist. Lilacs. Since when did she use lilac perfume? She had always hated flowery smells, instead opting for fruits or something unique and funky like that grass scent from Gap. None of that flowery girly stuff. When did she start liking lilacs?

"'_Oh, I love to look into your big brown eyes—'"_

"_But my eyes are blue…"_

"_Shh, it's the principle, alright?"_

"_But you're serenading me with Aerosmith."_

"_Just forget it."_

"_No, sing me more."_

Her hand paused, hovering only a few centimeters away from the skin of his cheek. God, why was she torturing him like this? Why did she have to touch him when he wasn't able to do the same to her? Couldn't she see what this was doing to him? Couldn't she see that this was killing him; this "sure, we can be friends", "sure, everything is fine", "yes, of course I want to hear everything about your life now" bullshit?

"_I missed your skin."_

"You look sad. Maybe I shouldn't have told you—" She began, lowering her hand to her side.

"No, no, I'm fine." He assured her, cutting her off mid sentence, "It's just that…this was so sudden. I mean, I had always thought that—"

"Yeah, I know." It was her turn to cut him off, now. After so many years around someone, you never really have to finish your thoughts—they already know your meaning, "But, I mean, this is what you wanted, isn't it? You told me that I needed to move on; that I needed to let myself be open to other things; other people. This…this is what you—"

"Of course. I wanted you to be happy. And I'm happy for you! Really, I am." Smile. Breath. Keep your eyes focused on hers. If you look away, you'll start to cry, and then she'll know. She'll know and she'll hate you.

"And I am…happy. At least as happy as I can be. He isn't…he'll never be…" She seemed to lose herself for a moment, but then visibly shook herself, jarring her reality back into place, "I am happy, now, Arnold. He makes me happy."

"Good." Oh god, how much longer was he going to have to put up with this torture. That small voice in the back of his headthe one that was always in charge when it came to herwas screaming protests, trying to get his attention. Trying to force his arms and lips to move, to grasp her to him and shake her and shout 'No, it's not alright! I love you, damn it! You're mine, Helga, you've always been mine and you always will be—'

"_Oh, god this is…oh…"_

"_I…I love you…"_

"_Oh…I….I love…I love you…oh, god…oh…."_

"I want you to come."

Now it was his turn to shake himself, trying to free himself from his thoughts, to focus on the situation at hand.

"What?"

"I want you to come. To be there for me. Maybe even be in it. Please? It would mean a lot. Phoebe and Gerald are coming…I figure that if they can stand to be in the same room for a few hours, than—"

"Of course I'll come. I just didn't think—"

"—That you were welcome? Don't be so dense, Football Head. Of course you're welcome." her voice dropped in volume, seemingly speaking more to herself than him, "You're always welcome…"

"_What is that look for?"_

"_What look?"_

"_That look you just gave me—that dreamy, light look. What does it mean?"_

"_You know, already."_

"_Well, maybe I want to hear it."_

There was a silence. Tension was rising, bodies unconsciously inching closer together. He struggled to control his breathing, keeping his focus on her eyes. Those beautiful, crystalline blue eyes. He could feel them drawing him in, bringing him closer.

A cell phone rang. Hers. Playing a polyphonic tone that he had never heard before. So much about her had changed, she even put different music on her cell phone. She broke the eyes contact, fumbling in her bag to stop that damned ring. At least that much had stayed the same—she had never been able to find anything in that messenger bag she carried as a purse. After a few moments, the phone was unearthed. A genuine smile filled her face, brightening it immensely, as she saw the name on the caller ID.

.She held a finger up to him and turned away, slightly, as she flipped it open, holding it to her ear. "Hello?" She asked, joy in her voice. He flinched. She used to use that voice with him.

"Oh, hey, Sweetheart." she was saying, "Yes, I'm still out. Over at Arnold's, we just got….yes, I know. I just told him. Yes." She glanced up at him, from the corner of her eye. Only a fleeting second and then her attention turned back to her conversation. "He said he will….I know. Do you want me to pick up anything for dinner? Got it. Ok. See you soon. You, too. Bye."

The phone was closed and slid back into the vast recesses of he bag. She turned back to him, and shrugged.

"I should go. It was nice seeing you. We need to do this more often. I miss you."

"I…" He almost didn't trust himself to speak. Three little words. One short phrase. A modifier thrown onto the end. He could do it, "I miss you, too."

She smiled and stepped closer, reaching her arms around him, pulling him close to her in an embrace. Her touch was like fire, burning him, but he lightly returned the gesture, not trusting himself to apply more pressure than necessary.

"_Every time I reach for you, all I grasp is air."_

"_That's because I'm reaching for your other hand."_

It was he who broke the embrace, much to his own surprise, and she stepped back away from him, awkwardly, her eyes downcast. She shook herself, again, and smiled up at him, shrugging her shoulders. The clasps on her bag clicked together.

"Well, I should be going. I'll see you later, Football Head. Give me a call, alright?"

"Alright." Smile. Breath. He opened the door for her, and she walked out, all curves and sways and pink and blue ribbons. She turned back one last time, and pressed a short, magenta nail into his chest. The polish was chipped at the tip, as if she had been biting it.

"I mean it, mister. You don't call me and I'll have to come hunt you down, again."

He laughed. It was so easy to fake at this point.

"Alright, I get it."

She smiled. It burned him more than her touch had. Without another word she turned and walked down the steps from his apartment, waving a bit over her shoulder.

He waved back, even though there was no way that she could see him, and closed the door. Leaning against it, he let out the breath he had been holding, and allowed his head to fall backwards, slightly, banging into the wood of the door.

Three words. One little phrase.

"_I'm getting married."_

_- _

A/n: So this is not the end. Well, it is of the chapter. but not the story. This is actually going to be pretty long, if I can do it right. The next chapter, and many of those following, will consist of flashbacks explaining how everyone met and how everyone got where they are, now.

The title of this come from the song "You Got Me" by the Roots. The full line is "We knew from the start/ that

things fall apart/ intentions shatter." Everyone should go download this song, but if you do, d/l the version from their Come Alive album feat. Jill Scott. The song is like a musical orgasm.

So anyhow, please R and R and tell me what you think. Like it? Tell me. Don't like it? Tell me that, too. I'll try and update this as much/often as possible.

j


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